


Just Let Me (Adore You)

by curds_and_wheyface



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Human AU, M/M, blowjob, college housemates, handjob, unrelated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/pseuds/curds_and_wheyface
Summary: It turns out there’s nothing quite like moving into shared housing with one Loki Laufeyson to rouse the deeply unexplored bisexuality in a ‘straight’ boy.And Thor’s definitely going to tell him. Probably. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol talking.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 309





	Just Let Me (Adore You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravenbringslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/gifts).



> Written for [ravenbringslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/) who isn’t having the easiest time but still never fails to bring positivity, fun and _Thorki Feels_ to fandom.
> 
> Huge thanks to [Rai](Https://twitter.com/sendaraven) for the incredibly helpful read-through and discussion. <3

Thor’s big-booted foot catches something, or nothing, and he stumbles again, knocking hard into Loki with his shoulder - broader than he knows what to do with yet.

Loki reaches out to steady him, voice tinged with concern when he says, “You alright?”

Thor bursts out laughing.

Almost nobody serves to make him feel as much of an oaf as Loki does.

He turns just enough to bury his face in the crook of Loki’s pale neck and stays there, still blindly putting one foot in front of the other.

“Y’smell good,” he mumbles, nosing in closer to inhale the faint scent of cologne again.

Loki huffs. “You smell like sweat and tequila.”

Thor makes an over-the-top noise to signify what a delicious mixture the two are and then makes a show of raising his arm to take a whiff of himself beneath his jacket.

“Ugh, fuck,” he grunts. He really does smell like sweat there, old sweat, from hours ago when he and Sif had been bouncing and spinning around each other like human waltzers to whatever song came over the sound system.

Suddenly he’s embarrassed to have called Loki at all, aware in a flash of what a drunken mess he is compared to Loki, whose evening of drinking has evidently resulted in a much more put-together merriness.

If merry is even a word that could ever be used to describe Loki, in all his stoicism and sharp sarcasm. Whatever the word, he’s had enough to drink to leave him relaxed and agreeable enough to meet Thor for the walk home.

They live in private housing a mile away - Thor because he didn’t apply soon enough for a dorm and Loki because he’s done with dorm living now - too old for it he keeps saying.

He’s only two years older than Thor but he _is_ older, in the sense that he doesn’t usually laugh at Thor’s stupid jokes, that he corrects Thor with a bored eye roll whenever he misuses a word, that he openly judges Thor for behaving like the freshman he is.

Thor likes spending time with him anyway, feels the urge to impress him bubbling constantly in his belly whenever they’re together.

He wishes he hadn’t called tonight.

He tries to side-step away but his toe catches on that nothing again.

Loki’s got a hand on his shoulder before he can even tip forwards an inch, tugging him in against his side.

“Come on,” he murmurs, guiding, voice unusually gentle. “Let’s try and get you home without either of us sustaining an injury, shall we?”

-

Thor’s room is on the top floor, in the converted attic. It’s too small for him to move around in, really, and he has to share the second floor bathroom with three of their other housemates - Heimdall, Fandral and Volstagg - but it’s got a nice little view over the park. He’s hit his forehead on the sloped ceiling more times than he’d like to admit, but he pays less than all the others.

He’s got his foot on the bottom step when Loki takes him by the shoulder again.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says. “I’m not letting you clomp up two flights of stairs waking everybody up.”

Thor’s still looking up at the second floor when he’s spun and dragged into Loki’s ground floor room and he has to close his eyes against the dizziness it causes.

“M’not taking your bed,” he murmurs, even as he drops down heavily onto it.

It’s bigger than his, and softer too, with dark sheets that feel cool against his cheek when he turns into them.

“Correct,” Loki closes the door behind them, turning to stand at the foot of the bed looking down at him. “You’re taking the floor.”

Thor nods, flattening a hand against his belly and letting out a long, sleepy sigh. It’s probably the alcohol, but he feels as though he sinks deeper into the mattress, shoulders relaxing and knees falling further apart.

He hears Loki huff, and then feels the mattress shifting between his feet as Loki sits. He has his back to Thor, but lays a warm hand across the top of his ankle.

“Horribly rude to get into somebody’s bed with boots on, you know,” he murmurs.

Before Thor can even think to apologise Loki is twisting, just enough to rest one knee in the bed and draw Thor’s boot into his lap, beginning to tug the laces free.

Thor watches him for a moment, gaze finally steady enough to hold on Loki’s profile - the way he purses his lips in concentration, his straight nose sheltered by the ridge of his thoughtful brow as he focuses on his task.

A thought makes Thor smile. “S’like you’re my manservant.”

Loki’s fingers pause but he doesn’t look up from Thor’s boot, and Thor lets out an unflattering snort, nudging at Loki’s hip with his other foot.

“Go on, boy,” he lowers his voice to say, flashing a lazy grin when Loki glances back at him.

Expression unchanged, Loki tugs at the long end of the lace, pulling the bow loose, and Thor’s boot hits the floor with a dull thud.

“And how would you have me serve you?” he murmurs, taking hold of Thor’s foot, thumb digging into the sole.

Thor grunts, vaguely aware in his alcoholic haze that the touch seems to shoot right up to his crotch. He nudges Loki’s hip again. “My other boot,” he says. “Take it off.”

Nimble fingers make quicker work of it than the first, and once that boot has joined the other on the floor Loki offers an expectant look over his shoulder.

“And now?” he says, with more composure than Thor thinks he could manage were their positions reversed.

“C’mere.” Thor tilts his chin up.

It’s only when he has one knee up on the bed between Thor’s calves, both hands on the meaty muscle above Thor’s knees, that Loki pauses again.

“Exactly how much alcohol does it take to make somebody forget that they’re not gay?”

Bolstered by insobriety, Thor tugs his T-shirt up to expose his hard-earned abs.

He feels validated when Loki drops his gaze to look, but it only lasts a moment before he’s met with one of those familiar eye rolls.

“Yes, very nice, I’ve seen them before,” Loki says, seeming to barely hold back a tut. “Answer the question.”

Trailing a hand down his exposed abdomen to the crotch of his jeans, Thor says, “I know you want me.”

He’s not entirely sure what’s come over him.

Loki’s right enough in that Thor has only ever dated girls, only ever expressed an interest in girls. Only ever really _felt_ an interest in girls, if he’s honest.

But then came Loki. With his pretty mouth and his intimidating eloquence and his rich laugh that rarely came out for Thor but always made him feel like the funniest person on the planet when it did.

“Thor,” Loki says, reaching to stop Thor’s hand.

And Thor lets go of himself with a heavy sigh, throwing his head back against the mattress again in a way that is, perhaps, a little too dramatic.

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking up at the ceiling.

Loki hasn’t moved, still half-kneeling there between Thor’s legs. If he’s honest, Thor had expected him to be a little...easier than this. Thought that maybe he’d just go with it and ask questions later.

Sometimes there are guys in the kitchen in the morning, hovering awkwardly around Loki while he takes in his ritual coffee, sometimes pawing at him a little despite his obvious disinterest.

They never make a repeat appearance, in Thor’s experience.

It had taken a little while for him to work out why he disliked them all so much. Why he’d nearly crushed a glass of orange juice in his fist the time one of them presumed to slide their hand into Loki’s tight back pocket while he rinsed his mug at the sink.

And the most surprising part wasn’t the realisation that he had feelings for Loki, but that it hadn’t hit like a devastating blow or left him questioning everything about himself. Instead, it had been more like a jigsaw piece slotting into place, a quiet little voice in the back of his mind going ‘... _huh_.’

Loki sighs now, pulling his other knee up onto the bed and sitting back on his heels, hands still resting there on Thor’s legs; a warm, comforting weight.

“Maybe I should’ve let you go up to your room,” he says, squeezing gently. “I think you’re confused.”

Thor sighs again. “I’m not confused,” he says, rubbing at his face. “And I’m not drunk either.”

That gets a small laugh.

“Okay,” he concedes. “I am drunk but I’m definitely not confused.”

When he sits up his head spins a little, but blinking it away he finds himself face to face with Loki, who's wearing a decidedly flat expression considering the magnitude of what Thor is saying.

“I _like_ you,” Thor says, leaning heavily on the word to make sure that Loki knows exactly what he means.

He puts his hands over Loki’s.

“I might not be gay but I can’t be straight either because I think about you all the time.”

Loki’s eyes are soft, his gaze unyielding. He looks as though he _feels sorry_ for Thor, which is absolutely the worst thing Thor can imagine.

“I think you are confused,” he says, quiet, smiling a little. He slides his hands from beneath Thor’s so that his own come to rest on top, thumbs brushing over Thor’s thick knuckles. “Do you think you’re the first straight boy who’s ever found himself wondering what it’d be like? Thinking about his gay friend’s mouth?”

He sounds so certain, so sure that this is nothing but curiosity buoyed to the surface by an evening of drinking.

“I don’t fuck straight boys, Thor.” His voice is less gentle there, and Thor feels the cold air across his skin as Loki pulls his hands away. “It never ends well.”

Thor barely refrains from reaching after him, upset at himself for doing this now, for giving Loki the wrong impression. He’s fucking this up.

“I don’t just think about your mouth,” he says, sounding a little petulant even to his own ears. “I do think about it, but I think about other stuff too. Really gay stuff like buying you books and taking you for pancakes.”

There’s a flash of surprise on Loki’s face before his mouth tightens like he’s trying not to laugh, and Thor lets himself fall heavily back into the mattress again.

“Pancakes are gay?” Loki murmurs, leaning over him to see his face. His hands, this time, settling just below the dip of Thor’s hips - perilously close to his crotch.

He looks so pretty, mouth twisted in amusement at Thor’s expense, as it often is. His eyes are bright with it, seemingly sparkling in the low light of his bedside lamp.

Gently, Thor takes hold of his face. “I hate when there are guys here,” he confesses, quiet and serious.

Loki’s eyes shift around, his lips forming a neutral line as he searches Thor’s face for the truth. Thor hopes it shows in his expression exactly how much he fucking hates it when there are guys here.

Their gaze holds, a few beats of heavy silence, but when Loki opens his mouth it’s not to confess feelings of his own as Thor had hoped. Instead he says, “You never struck me as the jealous type.”

Thor huffs, beginning to feel as if he’s exposed himself for nothing.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles without heat, letting his hands drop from Loki’s face.

But then Loki’s shuffling closer, expression still a little guarded even as he lifts a knee over to straddle Thor’s lap, one hand slipping beneath his head to lift it a little from the mattress so they can look at each other again.

“You’re pouting,” he murmurs, still a hint of his familiar amusement there.

He seems to wait a moment, considering, before coming closer.

A flash of anxiety grips momentarily at Thor’s chest, that he really is about to kiss a guy, that he really is at least a little bit gay, but it passes with his next breath.

“What’re you going to do about it?” he whispers.

Loki, still not one-hundred-percent sure, hesitates a moment longer, long enough that Thor reaches up to take hold of his face again, gives a desperate little nod.

“ _Do_ something about it,” he whispers, pleading even as he pulls Loki in.

It’s just a brush of lips, close-mouthed, but Thor’s stomach swoops, nerves and excitement and _arousal_ tangling up in his abdomen. Finally, fucking _finally_ , he’s got Loki in his arms, Loki’s mouth on his.

...Loki pulling away.

Thor scrambles for him, fisting at his shirt.

“Ease up, Romeo,” Loki murmurs, sitting up again. He’s still straddling Thor’s thighs, palms flat on Thor’s belly. “I definitely don’t fuck drunk boys.”

Thor opens his mouth to object but there’s nothing he can say. Loki already got him to confess to being drunk.

He eyes him, feeling a little betrayed.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Loki pats him on the belly gently, lifting himself up and off Thor’s lap. His hand doesn’t move from Thor’s stomach, and he makes no attempt to pull it away when Thor covers it with his own.

For a moment they just look at each other.

“Are you gonna make me sleep on the floor?” Thor murmurs.

Raising a brow, Loki says, “I don’t know, can you behave?”

Nodding innocently, Thor maneuvers himself beneath the duvet and lies, patiently, in bed while Loki shucks off his jeans.

“No socks in my bed,” Loki says as he climbs in, so Thor dutifully reaches down to pull them off, unfastening his jeans and wiggling out of those too, while he’s down there.

And then, despite Thor holding his breath and hoping really hard, Loki murmurs goodnight and rolls onto his side, his back to Thor.

“Oh,” Thor says, disappointed.

Loki lets out a short, exasperated sounding laugh and rolls over until they’re lying face to face. He reaches out to stroke his thumb over Thor’s furrowed brow.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he says, and then his eyes are closed and Thor can do nothing but follow suit.

-

When he wakes up the curtains are open to let the morning sun pour in, and the bed is empty. He’s not head-sore but his stomach objects a little when he sits up too quickly.

There’s a bathroom on the first floor but his wash things are all in the one upstairs, so he slips out of Loki’s room and up the stairs, clocking Loki in the kitchen as he passes.

He marvels at how much better a hot shower makes him feel, tipping his head back beneath the spray and letting it wash over him.

His face, crotch and armpits get a good scrub - he’s pretty sure Loki is actually a saint for sharing a bed with him smelling so pungently of alcohol and sweat.

He palms at himself, thinking about what could have transpired last night if only he hadn’t gotten quite so drunk. If he’d dragged himself upstairs for a wash and then appeared, clean and damp-haired, in Loki’s doorway and made better work of explaining his feelings.

He doesn’t let himself get fully hard - they’re doing their best to be an eco-friendly household and somebody will inevitably come and bang on the door if he’s in there too long with the shower running.

He’s standing in front of the mirror, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, when the knock comes anyway.

“I’m out!” he says, swinging the door open and letting in a rush of cold air.

It’s Loki, standing casually in the doorway, evidently not there to tell him off for using too much water.

Glancing around to make sure they’re alone, Loki plants a hand on Thor’s damp chest and presses him back into the steam-fogged room, kicking the door closed behind him.

“How’s your head?” he murmurs, not stopping until Thor’s back is against the sink edge.

“Yeah,” Thor says dumbly. Nodding shakes his sodden hair, sending rivulets of water onto his shoulders and down his chest. Loki’s eyes follow their path.

“You said some interesting things last night,” he says, dropping his eyes further still to track a specific drop as it disappears into the towel at Thor’s waist.

Thor’s abs twitch as Loki follows the path of the drop with his index finger.

Then sharp green eyes meet his again. “Did you mean them?”

Thor lets out a breath, distractedly repeating, “Yeah.”

And without breaking eye contact Loki tugs at the half-knot holding the towel in place, stepping back as it gives and the heavy material drops to pool at Thor’s feet. His eyes, hungry and intent, take Thor in in his entirety.

And Thor, so used to being looked upon by Loki with a painfully unreadable stoicism, drinks in the singular attention without even a moment’s shyness.

He’s not quite sporting a semi but he hasn’t completely recovered from his imaginings in the shower either, and Loki focuses on it with a thoughtful hum.

“Is this…” he murmurs, letting his knuckles brush the sensitive dip where thigh becomes hip, making Thor’s groin tighten, cock bobbing like it’s reaching, begging for Loki’s touch. “On the way up, or on the way down?”

“What?” Thor says, stomach tumbling and blood pooling to his groin in a rush.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s being asked.

“The way up,” he says, swallowing hard. “I thought about it, but we’re...conserving water.”

Through his long, dark lashes Loki glances up to meet Thor’s gaze.

“Good,” he says, and then his fingers are wrapped around Thor’s cock.

Thor all-but sags back against the sink, the porcelain wet with cooling condensation beneath his palms as he grips it for balance. He barely manages to swallow down the low whine that threatens to escape him as Loki immediately takes up an easy rhythm, both of them watching intently as the hood of Thor’s foreskin reveals and then hides the shiny tip of his cock with each stroke.

“Is that good?” Loki says, still sounding pleased with himself. “Is it what you imagined?”

And Thor can only breathe his name, tilting his chin forwards to brush his nose against Loki’s cheek, seeking Loki’s lips with his own.

This time the brief, chaste kiss gives way to parting lips, and Thor gives a whole-body shudder at the feel of Loki’s tongue against his own coupled with that unfaltering, maddeningly unhurried fist around his cock.

Loki kisses like he does everything else - with purpose and authority, well-aware of his skills and all too happy to show them off. His kiss is almost combative in its forcefulness, jaw working and tongue seeking out Thor’s. His teeth catch and hold on Thor’s bottom lip for a moment, just a touch harder than is probably necessary, and this time Thor can’t help the low moan that escapes him.

“This okay?” Loki whispers against Thor’s lips, as if for all his confidence in himself he’s still not fully convinced that Thor isn’t actually just a straight boy who didn’t mean his inebriated ramblings. As if Thor isn’t rock solid in his hand and already leaning back in for another kiss.

Thor kisses to reassure; with everything he has, like Loki is at the epicentre of his universe, and Loki’s hand stills as though he can’t focus on that too while being so thoroughly kissed - like maybe he’s _never been_ so thoroughly kissed.

Thor feels his belly flutter at the thought, with more than just arousal.

Still, he’s only human and can’t help but nudge his pelvis forward a little, a reminder and a plea. Touch me, please. _Please_.

Loki laughs a little against his mouth but takes the hint, taking up his stroking again, root to tip and back, slow and steady, loosening and tightening his grip in turn like he’s trying to gauge what Thor likes.

When he focuses his attention in the head - tight, concentrated little twists of his palm - Thor pulls away to let out a long, shaky breath.

“Ah, there it is,” Loki smiles, looking down between them again and repeating the motion.

Thor’s not sure what it is, maybe that he’s wanted it for so long, or perhaps because Loki has a dick of his own and knows what feels good, but even this, just Loki’s hand on him, is better than any sexual encounter he’s ever had.

He feels unmoored - like a shaking, helpless wreck completely at Loki’s mercy, willingly being unpicked at the seams, unravelling further with each skillful stroke.

“Please,” Thor hears himself say.

Loki smiles, amused. “What are you asking me for?”

Helplessly, Thor shakes his head, sucks in another shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

Lifting his other hand to Thor’s chest, Loki thumbs gently at his nipple, laughing, breathy and pleased, when it causes an involuntary chain reaction that has Thor thrusting into his fist with far more force than before.

The laugh, good natured as it is, tugs a little at Thor’s chest - unfair, he thinks, to laugh at him now after rendering him so vulnerable. He nudges hard at Loki’s temple with his own.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he murmurs, _begs_ , and Loki lifts surprised, sincere eyes to his.

“I’m not,” he says. Another slow stroke, another twist of that wrist. “You, like this? Might just be the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It’s so sentimental, so unlike what he expected of Loki, that Thor feels himself flush even hotter. He presses forwards, nosing at Loki’s cheek until they find each other’s mouths again.

God, he’s head over fucking heels. He’d probably be terrified if he wasn’t buzzing all over with arousal, an electrical current just under his skin.

When he becomes too distracted for kissing - mouth slack, breathing heavy - he drops his forehead to Loki’s shoulder and just stares down the line of their bodies, watching the head of his cock slide in and out of Loki’s fist, a near-constant drool of precum slicking Loki’s palm.

Like this he can hear himself, each desperate hitch of breath, each choked moan, and he wonders how Loki sounds, itches to get his hands on him to find out.

It takes far more concentration than it should to relent his vice-like grip on the sink and let a hand grip at Loki’s side, thumb settling in the dip of his hip. He strokes there for a moment, over Loki’s shirt, before sliding his fingers across Loki’s belly and downwards, cupping the hard bulge of Loki’s growing erection, warm even through denim.

It’s the first time he’s ever touched a cock other than his own and even through jeans it sends a nervous thrill through him - that he might make Loki feel good too.

He doesn’t get to do much more than palm at it a little before Loki’s other hand is clamping down on his own, stilling him.

“Just let me,” Loki whispers, nipping at his ear. He doesn’t move Thor’s hand, kind of presses into it, in fact, but he keeps his own hand over it, preventing Thor from offering any real friction.

He seems to refocus then, determined to finish Thor off without further distraction, and it’s taken him no time at all to work Thor out, to zero in on the things that rev him up.

“Getting close?” he says, but with a knowing smirk rather than as though it’s an actual question. He lifts his eyes to Thor’s, narrowed by his smug smirk like he’s getting off on having Thor such a helpless mess.

“Y-yeah,” Thor says, feeling himself tightening up all over - balls, thighs, buttocks. He hears his own heartbeat in his ears and feels the roughness of his own breath. He’s shuddering, abs twitching and hips stuttering of their own accord into Loki’s touch.

He’s grown used to getting himself off quietly, privately, in this big full house, but he doesn’t have it in him to be quiet now, coming with a hoarse, guttural cry that echoes in the small space.

Somewhere beyond the thumping of his heart he hears himself being shushed, feels it against his mouth as Loki kisses him again.

Loki kisses him right through it, until he’s emptied of all he has and he finally stops thrusting into Loki’s gently coaxing fist.

It’s all far more tender than Thor had imagined Loki would be, and he finds that he likes it. He’s grateful for it.

After a moment Loki leans past him to the sink, knocking the tap with a wrist so he can rinse his hands clean. Thor takes the opportunity to press his forehead to Loki’s temple, tries to slow his breathing. The buzz of his orgasm still thrums through him, making him feel warm and affectionate, and when he kisses Loki’s cheek he glances at the mirror and catches a small smile.

Hands clean, Loki dips down, eye-level with Thor’s dick, and for a moment Thor’s filled with panic that Loki might expect him to be ready to go again right away.

But Loki is only picking up the towel, wrapping it back around Thor’s waist and holding up the two ends for Thor to take and fasten again.

“I think you need to have a proper think,” he says, slow and sincere. With purpose, he runs the back of his fingers up Thor’s abdomen as he pulls away. He’s looking Thor in the eye. “About whether you’re as ready for this as you think you are.”

Thor feels a protest rising in his chest but Loki doesn’t even give him a chance to open his mouth before he’s carrying on.

“About whether you’re ready to explain to people that you’re with a man. And whether you’re ready for some people to see you differently than they do now.”

He’s backed all the way off, leaning back against the bathroom door with his arms crossed against his chest. To Thor, the wealth of space between them seems too much and too sudden, but Loki seems fully focused on what he has to say.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready for that.” His eyes are all empathy, which is something else Thor isn’t used to seeing from him. “But I’ve done the dirty little secret thing before, and if that’s what you’re after here...”

He gestures between them, shrugging. His meaning is clear. If that’s what Thor wants, he can’t have it.

Thor isn’t sure quite what to say. He’s not sure he’s ready to lead a Pride Parade, but it hadn’t at any point crossed his mind that being with Loki should be something to hide.

“And,” Loki adds, interrupting once again before Thor can speak, “you should know that I don’t exclusively bottom, and my preference would be somebody who didn’t expect me to.”

He’s respectably matter-of-fact about it and, honestly, Thor’s glad to have clarity on the matter.

He’d realised in the early days of his crush, after watching a large number of porn films in the name of research - and then, later, in the name of having an orgasm - that he wasn’t actually sure which _role_ Loki played in the bedroom. And then, after watching an even larger number, he’d realised that Loki might in fact play both roles, as some people evidently did. And that had only served to have him eyeing up the one-night-stands that trailed Loki into the kitchen with even more scrutiny, wondering who had done what to whom, which in turn had only served to make him feel hopelessly jealous and unreasonably gloomy.

“Anyway,” Loki says, reading Thor’s silence some kind of way and reaching for the handle behind him. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

And then he slips out, leaving Thor in the foggy bathroom with the warring smells of soap and sex.

-

This time when Thor passes the kitchen he finds three of their four housemates there; Fandral and Hela at the table, Heimdall with his head in the fridge grumbling loudly about his missing protein shake.

Fandral gives a dramatic gasp despite not directly being accused.

“I swear it wasn’t me this time!” He says, eyes catching on Thor in the doorway. “Why don’t you ask him? He’s looking bulkier lately.”

All eyes turn on him, and it’s only then that Thor realises Loki is there too, tucked in the corner spooning coffee grounds into his usual mug.

“Leave me out of it,” Thor says, pointing Fandral’s way.

Heimdall is glaring now, but not at him, so he bypasses them completely to drift closer to Loki.

“Morning,” Loki says over his shoulder, turning back to observe the juddering kettle coming to a boil.

It’s casual, friendly but not overly so, and Thor realises that Loki is giving him an out. The opportunity, for the sake of their housemates, to pretend nothing happened.

And, well. Fuck that.

Casual as anything, Thor slides a hand into Loki’s back pocket.

Holding the kettle up ready to pour, Loki pauses, tilts his chin up just slightly to meet Thor’s eye. “What are you doing?”

Thor closes in on him further, practically pressing him against the counter. “Staking my claim,” he says.

Loki huffs a little, depositing the kettle back down in its cradle. His neat brows are raised, his eyes bright. “How very paleolithic of you. Would you like to throw me over your shoulder next and carry me into a cave?”

The thought of it stokes the little fire in Thor’s belly. “More than you know.”

Loki laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m also serious,” Thor says, and he very much is.

Loki presses his lips into a tight line like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Not about the cave thing,” Thor clarifies, on the verge of stumbling, as usual, under Loki’s amused gaze. “But about everything else.”

A throat clears behind them.

“Excuse me,” Fandral says. “But what the fuck? Have I missed something?”

Beside him, Hela gives a low chuckle, much more openly mocking than the one Loki’s usually aiming at Thor. “Oh please. The big puppy’s been pining for Loki since the day he moved in.”

And, only because it hadn’t occurred to him that he was so obvious about it, Thor glances back at her. Then at Heimdall, who’s also nodding.

“Did everyone know except me?” Fandral sounds a little wounded, as if it’s his business being discussed in the communal kitchen.

“I suspected,” Heimdall says.

“A slight inkling.” Loki adds, and Thor’s eyes flash over to him. His face is pretty neutral but his eyes are bright again, no apology in his expression. He shrugs. “I wondered, that’s all. I’d catch you looking sometimes.”

Thor knows his mouth is slightly agape - at the fact that Loki gave him the run-around last night despite apparently having his suspicions all along.

“I wasn’t sure if _you_ knew,” Loki justifies further and, well, perhaps that’s fair.

Behind them, somebody slaps the table.

“Oh! _That’s_ why he looked so constipated every time Loki brought a guy home,” Fandral says, like it’s all falling into place. He shifts his eyes to Thor. “I thought you were just a bit of a bigot.”

“Thanks?” Thor says, mind racing through all the times he sat in silence as Loki’s latest conquest hovered somewhere nearby, how accidentally obvious he’d been - apparently to all of them.

Heimdall gestures loosely between them, looking as though he feels uncomfortable on their behalf. “Do you two maybe want to take this somewhere more private?”

Hela grins; an unnerving, knowing grin that reminds Thor of a cat. “Aw,” she hums, deep voice steeped in amusement. “But I like seeing him all flustered.”

Thor considers a scowl or a rude gesture, but instead he turns his gaze back to Loki who is looking at him in turn.

“Let’s just do this, okay?” he says, ignoring the others. “Let’s just see how it goes.”

He’s sure that Loki will take some convincing, that he’ll have wooing and justifying and persuading to do over the coming days, or maybe even weeks, to get Loki to agree to be exclusive with him.

But then Loki breaks their gaze with a shrug.

“Fine, but you’re not moving into my room,” he says, finally pouring his coffee. He doesn’t seem to mind that Thor’s hand is still nestled in his back pocket. “You take up too much of the bed and you breathe too loudly.”

Thor decides not to argue - for now. Baby steps.

“Volstagg,” Fandral says as their only missing housemate finally appears in the kitchen. “Did you know Thor and Loki are…?”

He gestures loosely to them, and Thor supposes the rest of his sentence can be interpreted well enough by the fact that he essentially has a palmful of Loki’s ass for no reason.

Volstagg‘s brows lift like he’s surprised, though Thor suspects it’s not because he’s less intuitive than the others but rather because he’s far less nosey.

Then he lets out a hearty chuckle. “So that’s what you pair were doing in the bathroom.”

Fandral gasps like a scandalised grandma, eyes flashing between Volstagg and the two of them.

“Which bathroom?” he says, reaching for Volstagg’s arm. “Not our bathroom?”

Coffee in one hand, Loki takes hold of Thor’s wrist and uses it to guide him out of the kitchen and across the hall.

“Which fucking bathroom, Loki!” Fandral calls after them, the last word muffled as Loki kicks his bedroom door closed behind them.

The sheets are still rumpled - Thor wonders if he should’ve straightened them before he left - his boots still at the foot of the bed where Loki had dropped them.

Loki doesn’t seem to mind; taking a sip from his steaming mug, leaning casually against the closed door.

“I see you’ve opted for dealing with this through the medium of reckless abandon,” he says.

Thor hesitates only a moment before moving into his space.

Loki’s laugh is breathy, but pleased Thor thinks. “They’re fully aware-”

“I don’t care,” Thor says, closing in, lips insistent on lips until there’s a hand at his cheek and Loki is opening for him.

The sharp, bitter note of black coffee gives way to a more mellow taste as Thor kisses him more deeply, presses his weight into it. After months of pining and daydreaming about this he relishes being able - being _allowed_ \- to hold Loki in place and kiss him until he's too out of breath to answer back. He thinks about lifting him up, about long legs wrapping around his waist.

“Hey,” Loki says, shoving him back. It’s clear he’s trying to make his expression serious and once again Thor feels desperately, stupidly in love with him. “I need you to know I really meant what I said in the bathroom.”

His fingers are splayed across Thor’s chest as he holds him off, thumb tracing the curve beneath Thor’s pectoral.

“You might be the big, muscular one here but that doesn’t mean anything, you know? This won’t all be you shoving me around and doing what you like with me.”

His eyes shift between Thor’s, his face giving something away that makes Thor think he’s anticipating disappointment.

“For a start...” Loki’s thumb comes up to press against Thor’s bottom lip. “If you don’t like the idea of being fucked, I need to know.”

And Thor’s stomach flips.

The thought terrifies him, honestly, but there’s a thrill there too. He’s seen some porn videos that didn’t look so fun for the guy on the receiving end so he doesn’t feel that his anxiety about the whole thing is entirely unreasonable, but he’s also seen a whole hoard of videos where the bottom was left trembling with pleasure, wiped out and satiated in a way he’s positive can’t be faked.

He trusts that Loki would make it good for him - beyond good.

“I’m game,” he says, leaning his weight against Loki’s palm until he gives in and lets him inch in close again.

He looks sceptical, though, even as he allows Thor back into his space. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you want,” Thor says, shrugging loosely.

He goes in for the kiss again but Loki’s still looking at him like he’s got two heads, and it occurs to Thor that while sex with men is new to him, _this part_ might actually be new to Loki - having somebody invested in making him happy for longer than a single night.

Fuck. How many times has Loki given in and just let some bonehead fuck him despite wanting something different?

“I _have feelings_ for you,” Thor says, soft. “You get that, right?”

It kind of hangs there, too serious for so early in the morning - and, probably, too serious for so early in whatever this is between them - but Thor intends to keep saying it out loud until it seems to sink in.

“Okay,” Loki murmurs, and then his hand is back around Thor’s neck, pulling him in.

The kiss tastes like victory to Thor, and he wants more of it, but just as he presses in to deepen the kiss again Loki tears away, hisses out, “Shit, I’m spilling my-”

In one smooth motion Thor has the hot mug out of Loki’s hand, and when he drops down to sit it on the floor he stays down there, settling on his knees.

“Now what’re you-” Loki starts to say, but he’s cut off again as Thor lifts his t-shirt to nuzzle at the flat of his lower belly.

Thor’s never been on his knees for anybody before, all of his sexual encounters with women having taken place on a bed or in a car. It feels close to worship, and he finds that he doesn’t even mind. Likes it even.

“Don’t you think maybe-” Loki’s breath hitches as Thor parts his lips, slack mouth dragging across soft skin, but then he lets out a frustrated growl. “ _Thor_.”

Thor lifts his eyes to Loki’s, hoping he looks as innocent as he’s trying to. “Yes? I’m listening, I swear.”

Gentle hands take hold of his face, tilt his chin up so they’re looking at each other properly. “Is this not all happening a little fast for you?”

And, god, possibly for the first time ever Thor wants to laugh at him.

In answer, he tugs open the top button of Loki’s jeans and parts the denim just enough to lay a purposeful kiss at the soft, trimmed hair there.

“If you knew-” he says, going for the zip. “-how long I’ve wanted this-” The buzz of it vibrates through his fingers as he tugs it down. “...you’d shut up and let me do it.”

He lays another kiss there, lower.

And he _feels_ Loki give in, feels him sink back against the door, slide his fingers up into Thor’s hair, cant his hips out a little.

“If at any point you change your mind…” he says, but the gallantry of it is somewhat undermined by the lazy drawl of the words, the way his pupils seem to have swallowed the green of his eyes.

“Shh,” Thor breathes, knowing full well it’ll drift over Loki’s skin like a caress.

After that there are no interruptions, no objections, as he reaches into the open V of denim and pulls out Loki’s half-hard cock.

It’s the first he’s ever touched, barring of course his own, and he’s surprised by how differently it fits in his hand.

He gives an exploratory stroke, sweeps the flat of his thumb gently across the tip, and confidence blooms in his chest at Loki’s physical response - the way his hips roll forwards into the touch, fingers curling slightly against Thor’s scalp.

His lips are parted, too, his breathing measured and his eyes intent on Thor’s hand as he continues his strokes, like he’s mesmerised by the sight.

“Jesus,” he says, letting out a dry, breathy laugh. “It looks much bigger in _my_ hand.”

It’s not small by any means - less girthy than Thor’s, though that’s probably not hard - but despite its length it is somewhat dwarfed by Thor’s broad palm and thick fingers as he strokes up and down, watching the subtle shift of Loki’s expression in the hopes of working out what he likes.

His jeans feel tight around his stiffening cock but he ignores it in favour of watching Loki’s eyes follow his hand.

They flash, briefly, to meet Thor’s own.

“This okay?” he says, checking in again. Thor suspects it may take him a while to stop feeling the need to.

Thor nods, bites his lip, reaching down to unfasten his own zipper just to give himself some room. He likes the way Loki’s lips curl up in a half-smile.

Resisting the urge to touch himself, keen to keep this all about Loki, he trails his hand back up Loki’s thigh to grip at his hip, feeling himself get harder still at the roll of Loki’s pelvis beneath his hand.

“I’m gonna…” he says, psyching himself up for the first taste.

He’s thought about this, in bed, fisting at his own dick with two fingers in his mouth. He wants it. But he was only trying to get himself off then, now he’s trying to get Loki off, to really impress him.

He’s nervous.

“You don’t have to,” Loki reminds him gently, still rocking into his hand. “This is good enough.”

Thor scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says, with no real heat in it. He doesn’t want to be _good enough_. He wants to blow Loki’s mind and ensure he never even glances at another human being for the rest of his life.

He leans forward, lips parted and tongue flat, taking Loki in without so much as an exploratory lick, and Loki lets out a low hiss.

“Fuck,” he says, fingers gentle in Thor’s hair like he’s petting him.

It tastes very much like skin, barely a taste at all across Thor’s tongue as he opens wide and takes Loki in a little more. It’s the _scent_ of Loki that hits his senses, the musk of him, as Thor breathes deep through his nose. He moans, without really meaning to, and Loki’s hip tightens a little beneath his fingers, like it takes a lot not to thrust forward.

Experimentally Thor lets the flat of his tongue shift against the underside of Loki’s cock, feels the ridge of his crown and gives it a more attentive lick. It’s then, when he pulls back to lick out at the soft, slick head of Loki’s cock that he gets the first burst of taste; entirely new, a little salty and a little bitter, proof of Loki’s pleasure.

Loki hums, lips pressed together, and cants his hips again to encourage Thor to open up.

Thor hesitates, strokes again with his fist to stall.

His nerves have his mouth dry, his tongue heavy like rubber. He wants water, or for his mouth to resume producing saliva, anything to slick the way for Loki’s cock so he can give it the attention it deserves.

He’s watched a lot of porn - he’s taken _a lot_ of mental pointers - he’s not willing to fuck this up.

“It’s okay,” Loki tells him, still stroking his hair, looking down at him with a look that Thor thinks he’s probably supposed to read as patience but, with the way Loki’s pupils are blown and his mouth hangs slightly agape, it just reads like _hunger_.

“Sorry,” he says, sitting back on his heels.

Loki’s cock is just there, hard and a little shiny from what little spit Thor has been able to conjure up so far, and he wants to get back to it - wants, desperately, to finish the job. But he’s determined to do it _well_.

“Just need a second,” he says, trying not to feel embarrassed. Fuck.

Loki’s hands slip from his hair, his hips lifting away from the door, and Thor is seconds from pleading with him to wait.

But then Loki’s reaching for his hand, cupping his own dick with the other to protect it from the teeth of his open jeans, and then he’s shuffling to sit at the foot of the bed, kicking last night’s boots out of the way.

“Come here,” he’s saying, still holding out a hand for Thor.

Thor shuffles over on his knees, let’s Loki take his hand, places his other on Loki’s thigh. Like this they’re face to face.

“Hi,” Loki smiles.

A breathy laugh escapes Thor.

“I’m a little nervous,” he admits. Shrugs loosely, apologetically.

Loki’s hand settles on Thor’s hip, thumb sneaking beneath his t-shirt for skin to skin contact. It’s surprising how much comfort Thor takes from it.

“Thor,” he says, gently amused in a way Thor tries not to react to. “You’ve never done this before, it’s fine to be nervous. It’s _fine_.”

He’s studying Thor’s face again, fingertips brushing Thor’s palm where they’re still hand-in-hand.

“It’s kind of sexy, actually,” he shrugs a shoulder, voice deep and textured like new shoes on gravel.

And then he leans in, slow, eyes on Thor’s mouth, clearly intent on a kiss, and Thor meets him the rest of the way with relief swelling up in his chest.

In truth, he’d never kissed any of the girls who’d just blown him. He got his dick sucked for the first time at the ripe - and incredibly ignorant - age of fifteen and remembers actively pulling away from her when she tried to kiss him after, grossed out by the thought of tasting a man’s load even if it was his own. And then he’d kept up the habit, holding subsequent girlfriends by the arms to keep them from leaning up to his mouth, ‘placating’ them with a kiss on the head.

Now he understands he was probably making them feel like they’d done something dirty.

He pulls away from Loki’s mouth and his breath stutters out like a shiver. Loki’s hand has found its way right up beneath his t-shirt now, fingertips skimming his ribs in a way that tickles and goes right to his dick.

Loki’s eyes are on him, hungry still, and those fingers curl in, knuckles running down the length of Thor’s torso, across ripples of abs that Thor is far too proud of, to settle at the open top of his jeans.

Thor’s still most of the way hard, despite his nerves, and he sucks that shivery breath back in as Loki drops his hand further to palm at him.

“Better?” Loki asks, quirking a brow.

Thor eyes him, wants nothing more than to let him touch, to let himself be expertly brought over the edge again, but instead he takes Loki by the wrist and pulls his hand away.

“Just let me,” he says, pointedly echoing Loki’s words from earlier in the bathroom.

He waits a beat before unceremoniously shoving Loki, hard, until he’s lying back on the bed, legs hanging down at Thor’s sides.

Loki huffs loudly, looks up in surprise, but stays where he is.

“I’m gonna take these off,” Thor says, already tugging Loki’s tight jeans down his thighs and off, leaving his cock to rest in a pretty curve against his belly.

And Thor likes this way better already, rushes to discard the jeans and nudge his way back between Loki’s knees.

He likes the pale stretch of thigh, smooth against his palm save for the smattering of hairs. He kisses there, enjoying the way Loki jumps.

Loki’s reaching for him again, fingers tangling in hair as Thor drags his lips up warm skin until he can lick out at the soft crease where thigh becomes groin, until he can mouth at the smooth underside of Loki’s length, root to tip.

Loki nearly curls in on himself. “My _god_ ,” he breathes, lifting his head. “I thought you needed a little more warm up time.”

“Nah,” Thor says, shoving Loki’s top up until it’s gathered beneath his armpits, running a wide palm down the length of his torso. “Think I’m good now.”

Loki’s form is lean, belly flat but shifting beneath Thor’s palm with his breath, and the bones of his hips jut out to create v-shaped indentations that Thor wants to shove his nose in.

He does; breathes in Loki’s smell again, palms at his cock.

Loki whispers his name, voice reed-thin, and their eyes meet.

Thor strokes, sees Loki’s eyelids flutter, but it’s not enough to break their eye contact. A kiss, open mouthed, against the underside doesn’t do the job either.

“Lie back,” Thor says, angling Loki’s cock so that his lips brush the sensitive tip with each word. “I need some alone time with my friend here. You can watch next time.”

From this angle, Thor can see that Loki’s tongue pokes out a little when he laughs.

“You say that,” he says, taking hold of Thor’s hand on his belly, “But you wouldn’t ask it of me if you could see how you look right now.”

Thor strokes nice and slow. “I have been on the receiving end, you know.”

But Loki’s shaking his head, like Thor couldn’t possibly have any idea.

“No, really,” he says. “You don’t know. You’re something else entirely, I promise. If you could see yourself, you’d be looking too.”

And Thor laughs, surprised to feel himself flush.

He really had no idea that Loki liked him at all. People do tend to like the way he looks, he works hard on the way he looks, but Loki had never _seemed_ impressed by it. Thor had been aware of exactly zero lingering looks or secretive glances.

“Just this time,” he says, working Loki’s cock with his fist as part of the negotiation.

There’s just a beat, a slight twitch of Loki’s mouth that has Thor convinced he’s going to argue, and then he drops his head.

Thor smiles even though Loki can’t see it, feeling warm and pleased that he didn’t push, then turns his full attention to Loki’s cock - hot against his palm, flushed at the tip and shiny with pre-cum - and leans in, one elbow on the bed for leverage and the other hand still flat against Loki’s stomach.

He wets his lips, sliding his tongue in a slow swirl around the tip before opening properly to take Loki in, careful of his teeth, breathing through his nose.

The angle is better, allowing him to feel more in control as he lowers his mouth, sucks gently, cheeks hollowing. Loki’s belly twitches beneath his palm, fingernails scraping light at his scalp in quiet encouragement, and Thor pulls off with a pop, stroking once before taking him in again.

It takes more concentration than he expected, to lick and suck and guard his teeth, to breathe through his nose, but Loki’s making quiet, pretty noises, hips shifting just enough that his cock slides against Thor’s tongue and his knees squeeze and release around Thor’s flank in no discernible rhythm, and Thor has no desire to stop.

He tries to take him a little deeper, a slow, exploratory bob of his head, surprised by how soon he feels the opening of his throat quiver and his chest tighten.

Loki must feel it, the flutter of muscles against the tip of his cock, and he thrusts up as if on instinct. It can’t be more than an inch but Thor gags; a loud, wet sound escaping his throat as he pulls back fast, feeling drool slick the way of his palm as he sucks in a breath.

“Fuck,” he says, swallowing, feeling the corner of his eyes prickle.

“Sorry, sorry,” Loki breathes, but he doesn’t really sound it, and though he’s not pulling Thor’s mouth back he’s certainly not letting him get any further away.

Thor had no idea - how little he’d be able to take into his mouth before his gag reflex began to make itself known.

Porn had made it look relatively easy.

It has helped with the spit though, gagging, so he takes a deep breath and takes Loki deep one more time. Again, the noise he makes is embarrassingly wet and undignified, but when he pulls back to fist at Loki’s cock the slick slide of it is much better.

“I’d stop that,” Loki warns, voice tight, “unless you want me growing accustomed to it.”

He groans, teeth clenched, when Thor takes him in again - not so deep, and with his fist doing most of the work. Loki seems to enjoy it more than enough, pelvis pitching up in tight little thrusts as Thor really gets to work.

This Thor thinks he could do all day; suckling softly at the head while he works his fist up and down, feeling Loki move beneath him, listening to the quickening of his breath.

He feels emboldened by it, presses in again to take Loki deeper, lips meeting his fist on an upwards stroke. Loki flings an arm over his eyes and chokes on his next breath when Thor takes him deeper again.

Everything is him - his taste sharp on Thor’s tongue, his knees tight around Thor’s ribs, his fingers just this side of too-tight in Thor’s hair - and Thor’s never felt so completely possessed.

Loki lifts his head, takes a look, but before Thor can really gauge how he feels about it Loki throws his head back down again, like the sight is too much, hips rocking up harder towards Thor’s fist and mouth.

He looks beautiful; lithe and lovely as he writhes gracefully under Thor’s touch, a hundred times more appealing than any porno Thor’s seen.

Thor’s jaw aches but he presses on, doubles down, humming as he goes, mouth good and wet now.

“Thor,” Loki says, choked off and breathy like he’s close, and Thor feels immensely proud, and so turned on.

Fuck, he could hump the bed he’s so aroused.

He’s wondered for some time how it would feel to have Loki wound tight and needy like this, the opposite of his usual calm and collected demeanour, and it doesn’t disappoint. He feels powerful, worthy of Loki’s attention and time, thrilled with himself as Loki’s whole body becomes taut, legs so tight at Thor’s sides they constrict his breathing, toes curling against the waistband of Thor’s jeans.

Fastening his lips around the crown of Loki’s cock he lets his tongue flick along the sensitive glans as he gives short, quick strokes of his fist, that last little push.

“ _Thor-_ ” Loki grits out again, neck straining and hips jolting up hard. He’s spasming as he comes, his lean stomach twitching hard enough to really show his abs, hips jerking up of their own volition so erratically that Thor has to pull off to save himself from a potential bloody nose.

He wants to spit, he thinks, but Loki’s not done and so he settles back on his heels and fists at his cock, watching hungrily, rock hard, while Loki rides it out, fucking up into the tight channel of Thor’s palm slicked with spit and what little cum didn’t end up in his mouth.

The taste is pretty inoffensive, was even pretty hot in the moment, but the feel of it settling on his tongue is weird, and the longer it sits there the more he wants to spit it out.

Once Loki knocks his fist away, finally finished and apparently a little over-stimulated, Thor casts his eyes around him.

There’s only the mug, a foot behind him on the floor.

He reaches back, trying to be discreet about it in case Loki is offended, and dips his head to spit, trying not to look as the viscous spend settles in the liquid just in case it ruins coffee for him forever.

Loki’s still flat on the bed, panting, but when Thor comes back to him, hands back on his bare thighs, he’s got his chin tilted down and a disapproving frown on his face.

“Did you spit that into my coffee?”

“It was cold anyway,” Thor shrugs.

Loki huffs and, seemingly more to himself than Thor, says, “Is nothing sacred.”

Thor climbs up onto the bed, settles alongside him.

“Good?” he says, too eager for praise and hating himself a little for it.

“More than good,” Loki says around heavy breaths. It sounds like there should be more, but he just breathes for a bit.

Thor studies him, enjoying the deep rise and fall of his chest, the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. Enjoying that it’s because of him.

“Though,” Loki says, biting his lip. He lets his head loll to the side so he’s looking Thor in the eyes, his expression all soft and fond. “I do have some pointers.”

A moment of hurt clutches at Thor’s chest but he takes a breath and gives a nod, trying to take it in the manner he thinks it was meant rather than feeling embarrassed or wrong-footed as he usually does around Loki.

He needs to break himself of the habit, especially now he knows how patient Loki can actually be.

“Good,” he says, determined. “Practise makes perfect.”

Loki lifts his nearest arm and brushes his knuckles along Thor’s cheek, across his mouth. “Well, I look forward to the practise as much as the perfect.”

Thor’s cock throbs with the heat in Loki’s voice, and then they’re rolling together, kissing again.

“I’m taking you for pancakes in the morning,” Thor says between kisses.

He feels Loki smile against his mouth.

“Gay pancakes?”

Throwing a leg over his hip, Thor kinda humps at him, still hard but trying not to be greedy. “Shut up,” he says, smiling too.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - hope you're all keeping safe and well.


End file.
